As I stared at the dead lizardmen, I knew I had to make their deaths useful. Their bodies were meant to serve as a warning to the others.
I still didn't understand why Azpen had given us this order. Perhaps he wanted to provoke the lizardmen into attacking us again, just as they had during the night.
I wasn't sure how to proceed. I could kill them to survive, but the brutality meant to showcase our strength still troubled me. Meanwhile, the blood could attract other predators in the swamp forest. Many lizardmen were still hiding, and with the war between us and their forces escalating, other monsters could become unnecessary casualties.
I didn't know what to do.
After a moment, I decided to make the display less brutal.
I drew my sword and cut off both lizardmen's heads. The arrows I had brought from the first battle were long gone, and the arrows supplied by the mercenary office were too expensive to waste. Eighty silver coins had bought me a quiver of around fifty arrows.
Instead, I used the lizardmen's own arrows. They were crude compared to ours, but they would serve.
I drove an arrow through the bottom of each head until its point emerged from the top. The sight made my stomach turn. I gagged, nearly throwing up, but forced myself to continue.
Using my sword, I carved a small notch into the tree bark and wedged the arrow into it. The heads remained on display.
I didn't want to do this. But there was no point pretending I could avoid every ugly part of war. I needed to harden my heart and mind—but not today. I would need time.
Leaving the bodies behind, I returned to Rusty and led him deeper into the forest.
My luck held. The afternoon passed slowly, and no more lizardmen appeared. As the sun began to sink, I headed back to camp.
I sat near my tent, washed at a nearby basin, ate dinner, and went to sleep.
That night, I dreamed of the lizardmen attacking me. They killed Rusty, tore his legs apart, and drove arrows into each one. Then one of them raised an arrow and thrust it into my head, from ear to ear.
I jolted awake.
Sweat covered my face. I ran a hand through my hair and wiped my face, trying to convince myself that I was safe and that it had only been a dream.
When I stepped outside, the moon hung high in the sky, bright enough to illuminate the camp. The night watch seemed more alert than before. After the ambush, no one was taking chances.
I walked over to Rusty, who was sleeping peacefully. I didn't want to wake him, so I sat beside him and smiled.
He shifted slightly, his stomach rising and falling with each steady breath.
I stayed there for a while, then slowly fell asleep beside him.
By morning, the sunlight warmed my face. I opened my eyes, rubbed them, and stretched. My joints cracked as I rolled my shoulders and neck.
Then I noticed a messenger rushing toward the camp.
He looked as though he had been running for hours. His eyes were wide, and he barely seemed to notice the people trying to stop him. He pushed past them and sprinted toward the center of the camp as if he had finally found the treasure he had been searching for.
He didn't stop to explain.
Verken drew his sword. The sharp sound made the messenger slow down. He turned toward Verken, breathing hard.
Whatever news he carried, it was urgent.